creepypastafandomcom-20200222-history
Mistakes
I write this as... Well, there's no easy way to explain this. I'm no longer alive. I know, it seems impossible and you could discredit me right now, but I will try my hardest to explain this. I'm not alive in the conventional sense at least. I'm typing these very words in a new body; the body of my best friend. Let me start at the beginning as best I can. It was about twelve years ago when I met him. James is his name. The man who I'm a part of right now. He and I were like brethren. We would talk about the same films, listen to the same music, gander the same women. From the moment he tore into the fact that I wore sharks to college and I rebutted something about his silly cap that hung low on each side of his face and held a small fluffy ball atop his head, I could tell we were going to get along. When we finished college after hundreds of nights of Monsters and ramen cups, I thought we would drift apart with the tide of life and think about the times we shared as a passive memory. We didn't. He jumped onto a local job at a deli, (naturally as he had a masters in psychology.) and I ended up working next door at a tiny indie record store. (While I had a masters in physics. Go figure.) Every day I'd go into the deli for one of his delicious marinara melts and he'd come over to hang out behind the counter and listen to music while being his hilarious cynical self, which reminded us both of Clerks, and eventually became our nicknames when we were around each other. We were "the clerks". Things were great for years. We'd work about the same hours and spent so much time together. We'd go out together to find women or just hang out in the night air. We'd have double dates with women who sometimes thought we were a bit too close. In one case James was called "the big man's housewife" after a particularly rough date with a prudish Palestinian woman. No... Wait I'm sorry. James's memory corrected me; it was "the fat guy's housewife." Point is, we stayed close, we were awful with women, and we loved it. That is until Rose. Rose Gaines was a regular at James's deli who would get a plain ham and cheese and leave with barely a word. She had soft blond hair and long light brown legs that would make kings kneel to her. I'm not actually sure which one of us wrote that, but it's true. We both knew who she was and longed for her. James asked her why she left so quickly every day and she told him that her boyfriend didn't like it when she was late. James kept prying little by little and got her to open up about her abusive boyfriend, her poverty, herself, and even her father's death. They got closer and closer and she started staying with James. Needless to say I was and am jealous. Now that I see his memories I know what passion it was... I feel so many things right now as I type this but most of all being regret from both of us. Her boyfriend was a brutish, short, stocky man with a stubble that made him look unkempt and angry at all times. He came looking for her and ended up having a fight with James and ended up in a cell for assault. James was in the hospital with a concerned and caring woman by his side. He was so lucky and I was jealous. I wanted to have what he had so bad it started to cloud my judgement. Just two weeks ago I asked Rose if we could be alone because I had to tell her something. I was in a cloud of jealousy and lust and I came onto her strongly. She denied me, and tried as tenderly as she could to let me down. I... I broke. I took her and threw her on the bed and looked down on her with fire in my eyes. I left marks on her arms and I looked down at her terrified face, and it brought me back to reality. I just left. I didn't say a word. It was a mistake and I thank god that I stopped when I could. James can read this now and look through me. He sees that it's the truth now. I feel such sadness and pain within me and it's from both of us. Tonight I, Marko, was simply reading through some articles on the internet when I was confronted by James, who barged into my room. He brought a pistol with him and he angrily brought it to my face and asked me if it was worth it. I told him I didn't know what he meant, but I did. He thought I had done so much worse and so much more costly things to a girl he loved with all his heart. He pulled the trigger after some harsh words between us. I was lifted out of my body as this odd spectacular form. One of whites, purples, colors the human mind can't even comprehend. I was ascending towards a large yellow glow that resembled the color of light fading within closed eyes. It had a warmth and love about it like nothing I'd ever experienced. It was like a radiance of all that is and will be goodness in the universe. As I approached it, a dark green substance grabbed my... Well I can't say arm because it was more like a tentacle. It jerked me and ripped me from the glow and flung me down onto James. I found myself staring at me. The me with a head coated internally with molten lead. The me with a brain now covering the wall and whose eyes are still open as I type this on the same computer. I'm filled with emotion right now. Too much for any human to understand or empathize with. It's like my brain can't function correctly and I'm seeing two stories in my head at the same time now. I'm having endless arguments and regrets with my friend and it's all in James... My body. I don't know what I'm going to do now. Nobody will believe I'm two people and there's a dead me in the room. I'm covered in my own vomit and I'm trying to finish this last paragraph. Why I was pulled away from that gorgeousness and placed in James I don't know. I just wish I could go back in time and stop James. Stop myself from hurting Rose. Stop all of this. I don't know if it was some cosmic mistake or if this was to teach us some kind of lesson. My head hurts... Our head hurts so much with guilt, rage, and regret. It's unbearable. James, you were always my friend. Tonight, I'm going to die twice. Category:Ghosts